Chapter 162
Jackson's POV
Lucas pressed his palms against his eyes. When he lowered them, something broken looked back at me.
"Can I ask you something?"
Every instinct said no. But I waited.
"Ellie and you." He swallowed hard. "What... what exactly is going on there?"
I couldn't believe him. "Seriously? Your girlfriend just watched you turn into a seven-foot wolf. She's in the ER right now, probably screaming about monsters, about to blow the secrecy of every supernatural being in a fifty-mile radius. And you want to know about my relationship status?"
"I know." His voice dropped to barely audible. "I know I fucked everything up. I know Samantha's terrified and it's my fault and I ruined everything. But I need to know. Please."
The desperation in it made something in my chest twist.
I could have lied. Should have, probably. But I was too tired, too hurt, too done with all of it.
"We're together." Deep breath. Let it out. "Ellie is my fated mate."
The words hung in the air like a verdict.
Lucas's entire body went rigid. All the color drained from his face. That last little spark of hope in his eyes—gone. Snuffed out like a candle.
"Fated..." He barely got the word out. "So I never... from the beginning, I never..."
I didn't answer. Just turned to check Caleb's pulse—steady, strong—while Lucas processed.
A sound. Not quite a laugh. Not quite a sob.
"It's funny." His voice had gone hollow. "I threw away the best thing in my life for Samantha. And now Samantha's terrified of me because of what I am. Meanwhile Ellie found her actual fated mate—someone who didn't break her heart, didn't destroy her family heirloom, didn't choose someone else over her every single time."
He looked up at me, and I'd never seen anyone look so completely defeated.
"Cosmic justice, right?"
I should've felt triumphant. Should've rubbed it in. But all I felt was a strange, uncomfortable pity.
"Go to the hospital," I said quietly. "Be there for Samantha. At least finish what you started."
My phone buzzed. Ellie's response.
Three words: She's going insane.
My heart stopped.
Details. NOW.
The response came through in fragments. Each one worse than the last.
Complete psychotic break. Doesn't recognize anyone—not me, not the doctors. Keeps asking for her mother (who's been dead for years). Apologizing to people who aren't there. Can't remember her own name when they asked. Doctors say severe dissociative episode from the drugs + head trauma.
Another message.
She mentioned wolves once. Just once. Mixed in with rambling about her father and monsters under the bed and being sorry. The doctors aren't taking ANY of it seriously—they think it's all trauma-induced delirium. They sedated her heavily.
I closed my eyes and leaned against the shredded wall.
Not exposure. Not exactly. But something almost worse—a complete mental collapse. Samantha's mind had shattered under the weight of what she'd seen, and now she was lost somewhere inside herself.
"What?" Lucas had picked up on my expression. "What did Ellie say?"
I didn't answer. Couldn't.
"Jackson. What did she say?"
"Samantha's... gone." The words felt like glass. "She doesn't know who she is. Doesn't recognize anyone. Her mind's completely fractured."
He made a sound like I'd gutted him.
"She mentioned wolves," I added, because he needed to know the full picture. "Once. Mixed in with calling for her dead mother and apologizing to ghosts. The doctors think she's just... broken. Hallucinating everything."
He folded in on himself. Actually curled into a ball against the wall, arms wrapped around his head.
"I broke her," he whispered. "I actually broke her mind."
I wanted to argue. Couldn't find the words.
The sound of a car door slamming made us both jolt. Eight minutes. Miles was early.
The apartment door—already half-destroyed—took one kick before it gave way completely.
Miles surveyed the wreckage with the critical eye of a general assessing a battlefield. Took in the claw marks, the blood, the unconscious Caleb, the two of us barely standing.
His expression shifted to something almost... pleased.
"Well done." He nodded once, sharp. "Caleb Martinez caught red-handed violating the most sacred law we have. His father can spin this however he wants—the Martinez Pack Oversight Council will have to investigate."
He moved to Caleb, checking his pulse. Satisfied, Miles grabbed a throw blanket from the destroyed couch, wrapped Caleb's naked form in it, and lifted him. Like he weighed nothing.
Alpha strength on full display.
"I'm taking him to the Wilson Estate safe house. When he wakes up, he'll find himself facing a tribunal." Miles adjusted his grip. "Lucas—you go to that hospital now. Play the concerned boyfriend. Shocked that your girlfriend was drugged. Devastated she's hurt. But if she starts talking about wolves?" His eyes went hard. "You don't know anything."
Lucas nodded, looking shell-shocked.
Miles turned to me. "You pick up Ellie. Make sure your stories align perfectly. If Samantha insists she saw monsters, that's a psychological problem. Not our problem. Understand?"
"Crystal clear."
"Good." He headed for the door, then paused. "Emergency Council meeting tomorrow night. I'll be formally charging Caleb with breaking Concealment."
And then he was gone, Caleb slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
Lucas hauled himself to his feet. Grabbed his car keys from the wreckage with shaking hands.
"Jackson." He stopped at the door. Couldn't quite look at me. "Take care of her. Ellie. Take care of her better than I did."
"I will."
He left without another word.
I stood alone in the ruins of Lucas's girlfriend's apartment, listening to sirens in the distance. Someone had definitely called the cops about the noise. I needed to be gone.
I did one last sweep—made sure nothing obviously supernatural remained—and headed out.
Plenty of time to think.
About Ellie, alone at the medical center. About Samantha, drugged but still screaming. About Miles, who was already weaponizing it.
About my parents, who'd died trying to change a system built on secrets and violence.
I'd wanted to stay out of pack politics. Keep my head down, protect Ellie, live something close to a normal life.
Too late now.
By tomorrow night, I'd be standing in front of the Martinez Pack Council, facing my uncle who'd probably murdered my parents.
And I still had no idea if I was strong enough to win.
My phone buzzed one more time.
I need you. Please come get me.
I texted back immediately: On my way.
Whatever came next—Council politics, Caleb's retribution, Samantha's breakdown—we'd face it together.